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roadtogracelandx45 · 5 days

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Courage Under Fire|Pre-War 8| Band of Brothers

part 7

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@marycorleone | @prettyinpayne | @ohnoitsthebat

word count: 4,382

Charleston, South Carolina

December 20th, 1941

Lewis reached over and took Olivia’s hand in his as they sat in the front pew of the Catholic Diocese of Charleston. Her fingers had been curled into the muted black material of her skirt, so tight that the fingers were starting to turn white. He squeezed them to loosen them and then twined them together once they were loosened. She had been focused on the urns and pictures of her great-great-grandfather, uncle, and second-oldest brother since they had sat down, and it had turned into a thousand-yard stare. And it was making him nervous.

And it took a lot to make him nervous.

Maybe the stare was a way to keep her steel facade up and not to break down in front of her wicked mother and other members of her extended family. That only knew her as the perfect daughter and granddaughter.

As if she was relieved by his doing that, she squeezed his hand and scooted closer to him, giving her twin brother who was sitting next to her a little more room on the crowded pew. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the side of her head, he had promised himself the night before after she drifted off to sleep still exhausted from not sleeping for almost 2 weeks and everything that happened the few days before at his almost wedding that he was going to do everything and anything he could to help and be there for her. Even if it meant going to South Philly for Christmas and celebrating there with them instead of in Nixon with his own family.

Though he was sure that his parents and sister would end up coming to South Philly too. Especially after Andrea, Olivia’s stepmother extended the invitation to them all before James and Olivia came downstairs.

Willing himself to stop thinking about the whole thing, he pressed another kiss to the side of her head and squeezed her hands again.

Alice, who was sitting just opposite them, watched through narrowed eyes, for the last 12 hours she had been trying to piece together their relationship. But all she kept getting was getting more questions. She had tried to ask Olivia about what was going on between her and Lewis but she just brushed it off instead told her that she was coming back to Charleston for the rest of the school year and was going to join the Army Nursing Corp from there and she was offered a spot in the program too by Elizabeth Forbes, the head of the program. She had flattered when she was first offered it because of her family and her parents not wanting her to do anything that would end up getting killed herself.

She didn’t feel like she was like Olivia who was willing to jump into this right off the bat without thinking. Alice supposed it was because of her brother she had lost, and for her 5 other older brothers, Bill and the man sitting next to her tracing a pattern on their clasped hands.

But after thinking about it, and searching her soul, she knew she would follow her friend into the thick of things even if it was to make sure she didn’t get in too over her head and end up getting killed herself.

Stewart Family home

Katherine McHale was a mess once they returned from the cemetery and once she started going nothing was going to stop her. Her biggest pain was currently her oldest daughter and her new husband Lewis Nixon, the heir of Nixon Nitrates. And because of that announcement the night before that Lewis married Olivia, most of the attention was on the two of them. And not so much as a backward glance toward Katherine. She had just buried her second oldest son and she buried her 3rd husband in July before her three youngest children returned to Pennsylvania. She should be the one that had all the attention on her. Not Olivia.

“Mother, maybe, you should lay off the wine.” Her eldest and favorite son, Edward, said pulling the wine glass out of her hand, “As much as you don’t like it, Livvy is a grown woman now, and if she wanted to marry him without us there then that’s on them. And she married him to protect herself from you.”

“Edward. You don’t know what you are talking about.’ She started reaching to grab the glass that he held out of her grasp.

“I understand that you are upset about how everything has gone on since July but acting like this now isn’t going to help anything.” Edward started, “She, Robert, and Marla are finally in a healthy and happy place, and you aren’t going to ruin it because you are upset.”

Katherine’s dark eyes cut to where Olivia was standing out with her husband, his arm was around her waist, and they were talking to Finnigan Stewart and his college sweetheart Elizabeth Forbes.

They almost looked like a perfect couple.

“Seriously, Mother, let it go. If there was anything that Nicholas would have wanted it would be for you to leave his sister alone. You have put her through enough.”

Katherine took another look at her daughter who turned into her husband’s form as he whispered something into her ear.

“Lewis, stop it.” Her daughter’s giggle came.

She shook her head and started taking angry steps towards the couple.

“Damn it.” He groaned before swallowing the rest of the wine.

“Go.’ His wife Samantha had joined him with their son EJ on her hip, “I don’t think Liv is going to this abuse sitting down again. And Lewis isn’t as well versed in stopping everything like we are.’ He turned and pressed his lips to hers before ruffling his son’s dark curly hair before crossing the room to where his mother, sister, and “husband” were.

Thankfully their father had informed them of the pretend marriage between Lewis and Olivia and how he threw it out there to protect her from having to marry Davis Robinson who was now on the Enterprise with James Jr., so he didn’t feel like he had to go off the handle at him for corrupting his sister at such a young age. Even if he had encouraged it.

“Relax baby,” Lewis whispered into her ear, pulling her into his side more securely, her uncle and his college sweetheart had gone off to talk to James and Andrea. Something about the plans for after the twins were done with school. Lewis had stopped listening; he was more concerned with going upstairs and comforting Olivia in the same way he had been since they had found out about the deaths.

“I am fine.” She forced a smile and took a glass of whiskey from him and took a long swallow of it.

“No, you aren’t.” He tugged the glass out of her hand, “I am pretty sure your father will kill me if you turn into a lush before you are 21.” “I have been having sips of drinks since I was 13.” She returned with a pout, “‘Sides, I need it to deal with that woman.”

“I know, sweetheart, but it's best for all involved if you don’t drink and don’t get the cops called to the house.” He laughed, causing her to huff.  and rolled her eyes in clear defeat, he had a point, especially with how quickly tempers could flare between her and her mother. "What are you and Finn talking about?" Katherine's voice cut in before she could answer him.

"Nothing,' Olivia shrugged as Lewis handed her a Coca-Cola instead, "It's been a few months since we have seen each other. You know he took me, Bobby, and Marla down to South Philly after we put Pawpaw into the hospital. This is going to be the last time we are going to be able to see each other for a long time. Or are you forgetting that we are now in this war?"  

"I lost my son, of course I know this."

"Do you though? You only ever cared about yourself and got all the money you think you deserve and Nicholas and Edward, the rest of us you don't give a damn about."  She didn't know if it was because of the whiskey she had been drinking or if Lewis had been standing next to her, but she felt confident in standing up for herself. 

Finally. 

"You have no idea what you are talking about." 

"I don't? You do realize you tried to kill Marla and myself because we weren't your precious sons. And you pitched a fit because you weren't able to play the poor mother of the bride, my selfish daughter got married without me."

For the most part, only the pitch in her voice went up, the tone and volume stayed the same. She was hyper-aware of her younger siblings and the other littles milling around. 

The last thing she wanted to do was frighten them. Being in the haunted family home was already frightening enough. 

"If I had my choice I would do it all over again, only changing the fact that my father, mother, and siblings weren't there with us." 

"So, you would want me there." Katherine beamed.

"Ha, no, my mother is Andrea. She is the one who talked me through everything. First crush, first date, first kiss. Everything. Where the hell were you? Oh, that's right! The hospital in Miami. Oh, poor pity me, my children hate me, my last husband faked his own death to get away from me."

There was a strangled cough from beside her as Lewis gripped her waist tighter, she had told him in a long letter a few months before about her relationship with Katherine and how she saw seen Nathan in South Philly months after his supposed death when she was downtown with Bill helping with deliveries for his father's laundry service. He never thought she would have the guts enough to throw that in her face. 

"Nathan is dead, Olivia Franklin, I buried him."  Katherine took a step towards her in a silent threat, something that normally would get Olivia to back down but this time she held fast as her twin brother joined them, standing at Olivia's elbow, his sandy hair messy, cheeks flushed from the cold and God knows what else. 

"No, you didn't, Mother." He spoke after swallowing several long sips of his twin's drink. "You buried an urn filled with dirt from the garden. We saw him in Philly." He motioned between himself and his twin and then towards Marla who was standing at the top of the stairs watching their younger siblings and nephews. 

"Impossible.' Katherine flattered.

"Nothing is impossible, Mother," Olivia smirked, repeating the same thing she had been told her whole life by her father and grandfather. “Kind of makes me wonder though, Nathan was your fourth husband, what happened to the other two?” Lewis squeezed her hip in encouragement while her twin pulled the drink from her hand and finished it in three long swallows. “We know that Daddy got sick and tired of your lying and cheating and all-around bullshit.”

Katherine inhaled angrily at that and took another step towards her, but Olivia held her ground, “What’re you going do? Slap me? Beat the crap out of me? Go ahead Katherine, I promise it will be the last fucking thing you will ever do!”

“Liv.” Edward, who was standing behind Katherine, scolded softly. All of the Stewart boys used that kind of language, but they never thought that their sweet baby sister would. Marla, yes because she was more like them.

But Liv, never.

“It’s the truth Eddie, I am not going to apologize because I hurt her feelings, she has hurt me and my feelings ten times more than I have hers.” Olivia started, “She is acting like she did nothing wrong in the last 18 years. Nicholas hadn’t talked to her for the last 2 years.”

Katherine’s hand came out and slapped against her daughter’s cheek which echoed throughout the now quiet house.

“What the hell is your problem?” Robert asked as Lewis pulled Olivia away so he could examine the handprint. “I am fine, I am fine.” She promised as her stepmother Andie rushed over. “She is telling the truth, and you do that?!”

There was so much commotion going on, that they didn’t hear the front door open up or the three uniformed police officers that came into the house.

“Is everything alright here?” The one standing in the center asked, his eyes on Olivia, Lewis, and Andrea. “Everything is fine, officer.” Katherine answered, stopping her kids from saying anything, “No offense ma’am but we were talking to them.”

“She was being disrespectful, so I hit her,” Katherine answered, glaring daggers at her daughter. “What I should have done was kill her when I had the chance. Disrespectful selfish little bitch.”

“Miss?” the second officer asked, crossing the hallway and going to Olivia’s side.

“I am fine. Didn’t do much damage this time.” The officer’s eyes found the cut on her cheek. “Long story, his ex didn’t like me or like the fact that I was at his wedding.”

“With good reason.’ Her mother smirked, “Olivia is going to keep on ruining things. I am surprised that Lewis even wanted anything to do with her. I mean Bill cheated on her.”

The bitter tears that she had been fighting rose and she turned her head so Katherine wouldn’t see that she was winning. “Can I be excused?” She asked. “Yes, go ahead, we are leaving early in the morning to go back home,” Andrea answered as Marla came down the stairs with their younger sister Katie following her, her bottom lip trembling at the sight of her oldest sister’s tears.

“Katherine, you need to leave now.’ Robert Stewart, Olivia’s grandfather ordered coming fully out of the office fully, he had agreed that Olivia needed to be able to stand up for herself.

But they waited too long.

“Katherine McHale?” The officer in charge questioned, once the girls and the other little kids were out of the way. “You are under arrest for the attempted murder of Nathan McHale, and the murders of David Smith and John Michael.”

The background noise had stopped, and all eyes were on Katherine and the officers. “Did I hear that right?” Marla asked, looking at her sister who’s eyes were wide in surprise and was clutching her youngest sister’s hand in hers.

“What?! This is insane! I never did any sort of thing!” The former Mrs. Stewart shouted. “Kids go upstairs now.” Robert, their grandfather, ordered. Edward had gone around the group and was urging the other kids up the stairs.

“Actually Miss Stewart, we need to talk to you.” The main officer said. “She isn’t going to talk to you without myself or her husband present.’ James Senior said, thankful that Lewis had the thought to twist the truth to protect Olivia. If she was surprised, she didn’t show it, instead, she pursed her lips together and handed Katie’s hand over to Marla.

“Go into my room, I will be up in a while.” She assured.

4 Days Later.

South Philadelphia

Evie wasn’t surprised when several cars pulled in front of the Stewart household. What surprised her was the good-looking dark-haired man who got out of the taxicab first followed by Olivia who clung to his hand pointing things out to him.

All her parents and the Guarneres had been told was that Nicholas was killed in Pearl and the elderly head of the family had passed away and they were going to their services. And that Liv had gone to Helen’s cousin’s wedding. But there was nothing said that she was bringing a man home. There were shouts of excitement from Henry and several of the other older Guarnere brothers as they rushed down the street and scooped Olivia and Marla into hugs.

They hadn't been home when they returned in August having joined the Army to help their family out. Evie peered out of the window in time to see Bill extend his hand to the dark-haired man who was with Olivia and heated words being exchanged.

Grabbing her coat, she slipped out of the house.  As much as she knew she hurt her friend, she was still curious and wanted to hear things that she did and most of all, she wanted to know who the man was that was them. She knew all of Olivia’s uncles, older brothers, cousins, and step-brothers, but this one she didn’t know at all.

"Fellas, this is Lewis Nixon, he is my Aunt Helen's cousin." Olivia introduced once Henry put her down, "He is staying with us until he has to report to boot camp." "Why?" Bill questioned, not liking how close Lewis was to his Livia. His gloved hand had caught her waist and pulled her back towards him once she had settled on her feet. She glanced up at Lewis then at Bill, "Because he is covering for a white lie we told to Katherine."

"Olivia Stewart? Lied? Really?" Henry teased Olivia had a reputation for lying to protect her twin and younger sister and then himself and Bill.

"To save her having to marry a man that is James' age and having to live with Katherine and his parents, absolutely." Lewis answered for her.

"He pretended to be my husband." She added her eyes on Bill who looked unbelievably hurt, he knew that it was possible that she would move on and someone could take care of her better than he could. "Saved my butt and saved Marla's too.'

"Well, then," Bill started, his anger and hurt barely contained and, "Thank you for doing that.'  He extended his hand for him to shake.

"Bill.' Olivia started. "Livia.' He returned, not looking at her.

She cringed and lowered her eyes ashamed, she knew that she had lingering feelings for him and she knew that she loved Lewis. She was glad that she was going back to Charleston for the rest of the school and then going to the Officer's Candidate School with Alice and two other girls from other parts of the country. 

Hopefully, that time would help her figure out what she was going to do in this sudden mess she found herself in. 

"Don't hurt her." Bill started once Lewis had taken his hand. "Don't worry, I am not you." He returned as the shorter man jerked him towards him causing Olivia to stumble and to be pulled away from him by her twin who was watching the scene with eagerness. As much as he tried to act like a good Southern boy, he enjoyed fighting too much not to be involved in it. 

"What's going on here?" Evie's voice asked.

"Nothing.' Olivia answered, 'We should go inside, we have a lot to do before Midnight Mass.' It was a neighborhood tradition that they all went to midnight mass together and a little gathering before Christmas Day dinner. And since her family had left in a rush to get to Charleston in time, she wasn't sure what was done.

"Go ahead, I will be right in." Lewis returned, he had a few select words for not only Bill but Evie for what they did to Olivia. 

"Don't do anything you are going to regret Lew, please. We have had enough fights in the last couple of days, we don't need more."

  "Promise." He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Goes for you too, Bill. Nothing stupid." He grunted in return, not trusting his voice or his anger yet. He didn’t want to say anything that he would regret.

"You have to forgive me sometimes, Olivia." Evie started catching her friend's arm stopping her from going towards the stairs. "No, I don't.' She returned icily, yes, she forgave Bill for the most part. But that was because she couldn't handle not having his friendship. They had been good friends before they started dating and she couldn't see her life without him in but the more she grew and understood her own feelings, she realized that Evie wasn't in the picture anymore. 

And she was okay with that. “Excuse me.” With that, she went around her and towards the house. “Olivia! Don’t walk away from me.” Her friend spun on her heel, and Evie took a step back, she had never seen so much anger, hurt, and hatred before. Not directed at her at least.

I don't have to do a goddamn thing, Evelyn." She spat, "You and Bill were the ones that hurt me not the other way around."

  Evie took a step back surprised, Olivia rarely cursed or lost her temper.

She was always so well reserved. 

"Liv? Can you come in?" Andrea called, "I need some help.'

"Coming Mama.' She returned and turned on her heel to go back up the stairs. "Seriously Olivia, you shouldn't run from your problems."

"I am going inside so I don't end up saying something I will regret. I am not running.'

"You ran to Charleston after it came out and you couldn't face us."

"How dare you! Fredrick was asking for me, he wouldn't let anyone else take care of him. I am still so extremely hurt by both of you."

"But you forgave Bill but you can't forgive me?“

"Think about why that is Evelyn. And if you figure it out, I am here until the start of the new year and then I am going back to Charleston and finishing school so I can go to the first open OCS they have available for the Army Nursing Corp. I won't have the distraction of Bill and my siblings. Come and talk to me." 

Evie felt her heart drop down to her feet when Olivia said that, of course, she was going to join the Nursing Corps and do her part, something that Evie didn't think she could do. She was too scared to do anything that took courage.  

Giving her former friend one final icy look, she turned and climbed the stairs going into her house and shutting the door firmly.

Andrea was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with Steven standing next to her holding her skirts both smiling at her. "Good for you kid. Good for you." 

Evie had stormed down the street towards the group of boys, angry and hurt and wanting to bring something back around to Olivia.

"Did you know about your sister joining the Nursing Corp?" Bill, who had been pulled back by his brothers, turned to look at Bobby and Evie.

"Yes, General Forbes wants her to be in it. She is joining in a few months after she finishes school.'

"They got her into an accelerated program at the high school the twins and Marla went to." Edward who had followed the twins and Marla over to the group.

"Liv is joining the Army? Is your father out of his goddamn mind?" Bill questioned, his anger being replaced by sudden fear. He was fine with going to war but the thought of Liv donning a uniform and going anywhere close to war zones. 

Terrified him.

"You of all people, Bill, should know that Liv will do what she wants regardless. And this way she doesn't have to pay for the rest of her nursing degree.' The older Stewart brother explained, "She has some credits from her volunteering at the Veterans hospitals. You aren't going to do anything to ruin this for her, Bill, if you thought she hated you for cheating on her with Evie, then she will hate you like she hates Katherine."

"He deserves it," Lewis muttered as he took steps back to gather his and Olivia's luggage to carry upstairs, he hadn't thought much of Bill other than he was stupid for letting a girl like Olivia get away from him.

His loss was Lewis' gain. But the fact that he was thinking about ruining something that meant a lot to her made him dislike him. 

Bill waited until Lewis had disappeared back into the house after midnight mass to approach Olivia who was finishing one final cigarette before going into bed. “So, the Army Nursing Corp, huh?” he asked, waving off the pack that she held out to him.

“Yes, I got an offer from General Forbes herself and I took it. And we both know that once school is over with you are going to join up and break your mama’s heart.” She returned keeping her voice low so they wouldn’t wake up the younger Stewart kids who had fallen asleep on their way home being carried by the others.

‘You are right but Liv baby, I am worried about you.” “Me?’ she laughed, ‘Honey, they don’t really send many nurses to active war zones. I will be in the hospital with wounded soldiers. I’m terrified that I’m going to lose you. You are the one I am worried about.’

He took steps forward and pulled her into him, ‘because I know no matter how much I love that man who is upstairs in my bed, I still love you. And that scares me.” She sniffed back the tears back, “Because you have hurt me so much.”

“Liv.” He started but flattered when he saw how upset she was getting. He wanted to tell her the same thing, but he couldn’t.

“I am doing this because I can’t sit at home and do nothing. I am doing this because I can’t lose anyone else. I lost my great-great-great-grandfather whom I loved dearly. I lost my brother who had his whole damn life in front of him. My aunt Careen lost her husband, and they have a baby on the way. A child that is going to grow up without their father because of the Japanese bombing Pearl Harbor.” She shook her head to stop the tears that rose up, “I’m sorry, but Bill, you can’t tell me what I can or cannot do. Not with this.”

#ash writes #oc: olivia stewart #oc: alice faith anderson #series: courage under fire #band of brothers #band of brothers fan fiction #band of brothers imagines #lewis nixon #bill guarnere #bill guarnere x oc #lewis nixon x oc

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alexpdcl · 1 year

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ace / ash are just a chaotic duo together who casually make out like bros do, but typical ace doesn’t want love commitments; while ash initially seems to be a flinger as well, he unknowingly starts to fall for ace bc he’s a romantic at heart (and also bc they’ve already spent more time with each other); and because ash isn’t the sort of person to shy away from his feelings, he would directly confess to ace without hesitation, putting ace in a state of dilemma and confusion because ace doesn’t know what he feels towards him. Is it love? or is it infatuation? ...

#Text #dbd #ace x ash #ace visconti #ash williams #ash x ace #dead by daylight #i think alot about them #asdoijdias #this also sounds so angsty #but yes #i will dump my headcanons into the tags #yeppeds #i'm getting too invested in them i need to stop neglecting my boy bill...#HELP

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lukabitch · 1 year

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Hiii, if you're still doing character x character headcanons, I would love to hear what you think about Bill overbeck x Ash Williams! Maybe focusing more on their potential dynamics?

Two old men kissing? Now that’s a diversity win! Sorry if it’s a bit weird it’s been a minute since I’ve done character x character. Thank you so much for the request Anon! :)

Tw: mentions of war other then that pure fluff and crack.

When these two first met they had a rivals thing going on.

I mean Bill was the old wise guy but Ash swung in with crazy guy wisdom.

Their dynamic is mainly hyperactive and annoyed voice of reason.

Bill is constantly having to tell Ash to calm down or be quiet.

Literally pulled Ash away from fighting a killer once.

Ash has made Bill do some wild things.

He takes it as a compliment obviously but Bill doesn’t like it.

Bill sicks Ash on people.

“ASH GET THAT FUCKER!”

If we’re talking about when they’re being sweet to each other.

They cuddle constantly. It’s nearly impossible to get one of them to leave the other.

In trials they try to protect the other.

They’ll get mad at the other for taking hits.

“Stop taking hits damn it!” “No you stop taking hits!”

Ash is the living embodiment of “no stop it.”

The “dates” they go on mainly involve getting back at the killers.

They have and will throw rocks at them and laugh at them. Mainly the ones that are hard on them.

They are the dads of the survivors so they have to practically keep the others on leashes.

They are both extremely tired constantly but Ash is the on that gets the burst of energy.

Imagine one very tired parent playing with the kids while the other sleeps in a rocking chair. That’s the new dynamic after they start dating.

Tbh they just vibe together in the ‘kids these days” way both positive and negative.

They need a nap at the end of the day. Please just let them sleep.

#dbd #dead by daylight #request #dbd headcanons #william bill overbeck #bill overbeck #ashley williams #ash williams #ash wiliams x bill overbeck #I know ash is in his 50s or something close to that #I just think calling him an old man is funny #character x character

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ask-william-bill-overbeck · 1 year

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/// back with them again

#bill overbeck #ash williams #bill x ash #willbeck #dbd #dead by daylight #ooc #I'm trying to get back to my blogs i swear but this is what I can churn out as of now...#i forgot to write their names... y'all know who they r anyway

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misha-intiimacy · 10 months

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thinking about themmm

#left 4 dead 2 #dbd #dead by daylight #l4d2 #bill overbeck #ash williams #bill x ash #bill l4d #l4d bill #old men yaoi #old man yaoi #my art #ibispaint

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phefics · 6 months

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veritaserum

ship: fred weasley x reader x george weasley summary: fred and george dose the reader with a truth serum, which leads to her admitting a sexual fantasy including both brothers. warnings: dubious consent (truth potion is used to make the reader admit her sexual fantasies which then play out), pseudo-inc3st (the twins don't do anything sexual to each other but are both involved in the same sexual scenario), gender-neutral!reader (reader has a vagina but no pronouns are used) word count: 1.9k

Being friends with the Weasley twins was a constant rollercoaster.

There was never a dull moment, always an adventure to go on, a prank to pull, or witty banter bouncing between you and the brothers. Sometimes, you were helping Fred and George pull off their next big joke, but other times, you were their target. Sure, it could be frustrating, but it was also fun for you, and you always found ways to get them back.

You had been friends with the twins since your first year at Hogwarts, and that friendship had continued past Hogwarts and followed you into early-adulthood. You visited them at the flat over their shop in Diagon Alley often, where they showed you prototypes for new products and made you laugh until you cried with their antics.

It was a cold evening when you appeared in their fireplace, a bit dusty from the ashes, and were greeted with excited shouts from Fred and George before being pulled into a group hug.

As you looked up at their grinning faces, you couldn’t believe that there were people who still got the twins confused.

Fred had more freckles on his face, while George’s shoulders and arms had an abundance of them. When Fred laughed, he threw his head back, cackling loudly, while George usually gave more reserved chuckles, laughing down at his lap. And, well, George was fully missing an ear now, and Fred had a large scar on his temple from the Battle, where a piece of castle wall had crashed down on top of him.

“Finally,” Fred said, man-handling you onto the couch. “We’ve been waiting ages!”

“I’m only a few minutes late,” you replied, glancing at their clock, which wasn’t even working—it read 3:15, but it was well past 7:00 judging by the darkness outside.

“And are our few minutes not important to you?” George asked, sitting by your side. “We could have been using that time to come up with more brilliant inventions.”

“Or planned a clever scheme to spill a bucket of water on your head when you arrived,” Fred added.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to have wasted your precious time,” you said, tone thick with sarcasm.

It was nice catching up with them. They updated you on each member of the Weasley family, such as Fleur’s pregnancy with her and Bill’s first child, or Percy’s upcoming wedding. You updated them on your own life as well, and it wasn’t long until they had pushed a glass of Firewhiskey into your hands.

“So, Y/N,” Fred said, leaning against the back of the couch. You immediately recognized the glint of mischief in his brown eyes, and braced yourself for whatever ridiculous question he was about to pose.

“Which of us do you think is the better looking twin?”

You opened your mouth, intending to say something like ‘neither of you’ or ‘you’re identical—what kind of stupid question is that?’ but the sentence that spilled from your lips instead was, “Well, you look pretty much the same, so I’d say you guys are equally attractive. I think the scar makes you look pretty hot, Fred, but George can really pull off the whole missing ear thing.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, face burning.

The twins both erupted into giggles.

“Oh, you’re too kind!” George said. “I’m glad you find my lack of an ear sexy.”

“And my scar is flattered,” Fred added.

“What did you two do?” you asked, scowling.

“We might have stumbled upon a vial of Veritaserum…” George said, trying and failing to look guilty. “And put it in your drink. Just a drop, though! It’ll wear off soon.”

You wanted to insult them, yell at them, call them every insult and curse under the sun, but no words would leave your tongue. It was like the truth serum wouldn’t even let you pretend to be pissed off. Sure, this was an invasion of your privacy and totally sketchy, but you had known Fred and George for so long, you were sort of used to their antics by now. You should have been way angrier than you were, but it was just so typical of them, you couldn’t muster much more than annoyance.

What you did manage to say was, “Why?”

Both twins shrugged.

“For fun,” Fred said.

“And because we were curious about something,” George replied.

“About what?”

“About which of us you like better.”

You blinked at them. “Are you serious? We aren’t eleven anymore. Is it really a contest between you two to be the better twin?”

“Not really, no,” Fred said. “Even though we all know that it's me.”

George reached over you to playfully shove his brother’s shoulder. “It’s not about proving anything. We’re just curious. So, Y/N, who do you like better: me or Freddie?”

“I like you equally,” you said. “You are both hilarious, intelligent, and my best friends. I find it easier to connect with George on serious things, but Fred always knows the right thing to say when I need cheering up.”

Your face was flushing deeper, embarrassed at the cheesy, sentimental words that left your mouth. Fred and George had grown up in an incredibly loving, affectionate family and had never shied away from making their love known, but it was awkward to voice your own feelings out loud like that.

Both twins seemed rather touched, though

“Wow, I was expecting you to have to pick,” Fred said. “But that’s oddly sweet.”

You groaned. “Okay, okay, yes, I love you both, can we knock this off now?”

“No, we have more questions!”

“Such as…?”

“Would you fuck either of us?” George asked.

Fred was normally the more vulgar of the two, and the question coming from George’s lips instead took you even more off guard.

“Yes,” you said, unable to stop yourself. “Either of you. Or both of you.”

“At the same time?”

“Yes.”

Fred and George also showed their emotions differently. Fred was better at keeping his feelings to himself, but when he was flustered, his ears would turn pink. His ears had flushed slightly, and his eyes were wide as he licked his lips, clearly intrigued by your answer. George was also flushed, but the color went to his face, and he brushed his thumbs repeatedly over his thighs, a nervous tick he’d always had.

“Have you thought about this a lot?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell us how you’d want it.”

You couldn’t help but answer. “I would let you strip off my clothes, groping me. One of you is behind me, kissing my neck as you take off my shirt. The other is at my feet, pulling my pants down. Neither of you shut up the whole time, talking about me like I’m not even there. Commenting to each other about how pretty I am, how wet my pussy is for you. Whoever is between my legs starts to go down on me, while the other holds my body still so I can’t move away from how good it feels. I cum on your tongue, and the other wants a turn, too…”

The twins were both clearly aroused as you spoke.

“Do you want that? Now?” Fred asked, his voice low.

“Yes,” you breathed.

They waste no time switching their positions on the couch, George pulling your back against his chest while Fred positions himself between your legs, his hands eagerly moving to the waistband of your pants, tugging at it.

George took his time, hands sliding up your shirt, touching softly as he felt you up, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, lips teasing the skin there.

You couldn’t help but whine under their touches, loving every moment of it. You had truly dreamt of this for years, always too afraid to ruin the friendship. Sure, you had kissed both twins for dares back at school, but this was real and intimate and beautiful.

Fred made quick work of getting your bottom half undressed, and he kissed his ways along your thighs, cupping your ass with one hand, squeezing hard.

“So fuckin’ hot,” George breathed.

“I know, right?” Fred replied. “So good for us, too. Are we making your fantasy come true, love?”

You nodded, whimpering softly.

“So needy, too. You want to cum for us?”

You nodded again. “Yes, yes please.”

George chuckled, nipping at your ear as Fred’s mouth finally reached your pussy, his tongue licking tentatively at you before he found your clit, which he immediately focused his attention on.

Your noises only grew louder, more desperate.

“Already? You’re not very good at this whole build-up thing, Freddie,” George said.

“I think we’ve waited long enough for this,” Fred replied before returning to his task.

“You don’t want to be patient, do you, darling?” George asked, hugging you tightly from behind. “You’ve wanted this for so long, you just want to be good for us, take everything we’ve got?”

“Fuck yes,” you moan.

Fred was clearly just as eager as you are, apparently trying to make you cum as quickly as possible, like he was placing bets in his head.

“You like that, hm? Is he good at it? Making you feel good?” George said.

“Feels so fucking good.”

“Good. You gonna cum for him?”

“Yes, yes, I’m—”

It didn’t take long at all. Fred’s tongue was good for more than just witty comments, and your legs trembled as he sat up, lips shining with your slick and a smug smile on his face.

“I think this is the part where we switch jobs, Georgie.”

Your pussy was already so wet, so sensitive, you knew that George would be able to make you cum fast, too. It was almost embarrassing how easy you were, how turned on they made you.

The twins switched positions, and Fred wrapped his arms around your middle sweetly, dragging his fingers over your waist and making goosebumps spread over your abdomen, squirming in his grasp.

“Don’t try and get away, sweet thing,” Fred said. “Otherwise George won’t be able to have his turn. Just be good for us, okay? Be a good little slut.”

You whined, face hot as George’s lips found your inner thighs and kissed the skin there, slowly, teasingly. He was the more patient, more methodical of the two. He wasn’t going to go straight for your clit, he was going to keep you wanting. Maybe until you begged.

Fred began sucking a hickey into your throat, leaving you a moaning mess as the twins both worshiped your body like it was something sacred.

Finally, George’s tongue found your pussy, teasing your hole and folds before even bothering to touch your clit.

“Should he put his fingers inside you?” Fred asked.

You nodded fervently, thrusting your hips.

George complied immediately, sliding one finger inside which was quickly followed by a second, pumping slowly before curling into that special spot, which he had found surprisingly easily.

Your second orgasm came just as quickly as the first, your hands balling into fists and your toes curling. Once your body was able to relax, you looked up through teary eyes to see George licking your taste off of his fingers.

“Was that everything you dreamed?” Fred asked.

You opened your mouth, expecting the answer to roll off your tongue, but it didn’t. You realized that the potion had worn off, and smirked.

“It could have been better,” you said, thrilled with your ability to lie again.

Obviously, Fred and George had to remedy that immediately.

#fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #weasley twins x reader #fred weasley smut #george weasley smut #weasley twins smut #hp fic #ophelia's fics

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scuderiahoney · 19 days

Text

Every Second

charles leclerc x reader

masterlist

summary: the world is ending. you’re right where you belong. 2.6k words

warnings: major character death (apocalypse au, everyone dies), charles & reader have a daughter, talks of death/afterlife/end of the world, it’s mostly sad not gonna lie

a/n: had this idea a LONG time ago, finally finished it today. loosely based on the music video for Older by 5SOS. see also: Till Forever Falls Apart by Ashe & FINNEAS and I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers. you get the vibes.

The world is on fire.

For once, you mean that literally. You’ve been saying it for years, in reference to politics and pollution and the general temperature of the planet. But now, the world is literally on fire.

Charles is pacing laps around the whole apartment. He’s unable to sit still, even now. The tv is on, the volume low, photos flashing by on the screens. There’s a countdown, ticking along at the bottom of the newscast, telling you exactly how many minutes you have left before the whole thing falls apart. You’re not sure how they seem to know. You won’t take the time to find out.

The next time Charles walks by you, you reach out and grab the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He stops in his tracks, and your fingers brush against his skin. He doesn’t look at you, hasn’t for hours. He stared at the ceiling, now. He’s angry, you can tell. It’s eating him up inside.

“Amour,” you say, calmly, quietly. “You will wear a path in the carpet.”

The irony of what you’ve just said doesn’t hit you until he lets out a bitter laugh. You realize, then, that by tomorrow there will be no carpet. There will be nobody to see the path he’s worn. Everything around you will cease to exist.

It’s funny, the end of the world. It doesn’t feel like you thought it would, though you’re not sure you spent much time devoted to the thought. You had worries, sure, but they always seemed so distant.

“We should wake her,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “I want… every second.”

“Okay,” you agree. “Okay, I’ll get her.”

“No. Not- I’ll go with you,” he says, twisting his hand to grab yours, then repeating, “I want every second.”

You stand up from the couch. He keeps your hands linked as he follows you to your daughter’s room. She’s asleep in the crib, barely one year old, head full of dark curls and a smile that bears his dimples. She looks peaceful. For a moment, you hate to disturb her. It’s the last time you’ll pull her from her crib. You understand, now, why he wanted to come with.

Charles walks over, reaches in with one arm, and scoops her up. It’s only then that his eyes meet yours, as he cradles her to his chest. The two of them make such a perfect picture. You’ve seen it before, after races when he’s tired and sweaty but always wanting to hold her, when he gets back from long trips and she clings to him for hours, when he gets her up in the morning and brings her to your room to wake you up.

He swallows tightly as she shifts in his arm, pressing her tiny round cheek to his neck. You tug on his hand, lead him back out to the living room. He squeezes so hard you think your fingers might fall off.

It won’t be long now before your daughter is fully awake. She’s already beginning to wiggle slightly, her eyelids fluttering. You don’t dare to try and let go of Charles, but you head for the kitchen and start warming up a bottle for her.

It’s what you’d do any day. It’s odd, because the apocalypse is breathing down your neck but your baby still needs to be fed. Other things, you’ve chosen to neglect- the trash will stay in the overflowing can in the kitchen. The mail will go unopened, bills unpaid. There’s a layer of dust on the fireplace mantle that will stay there until the mantle itself ceases to exist. You warm up your daughter’s bottle, though, and try to listen to the sound of the microwave instead of the sound of your husband’s crying.

She’s awake, now, and tugging at your hair with tiny fingers. Charles untangles your hands and wraps his arm around your waist instead, uses it to pull you into his chest. His grip is so tight it would almost be claustrophobic on any other day. Today, if you could melt yourself into one person with him, you would.

The microwave beeps, and you both jump. You grab the bottle, turn to your husband, your daughter. She’s yawning, her head on his chest, her hand still caught in your hair. She doesn’t know. She won’t ever know. There are so many things she won’t get to learn. You’ve dreamt of this your whole life- of love, a family, people to call your own and a home to spend your life in with them. In the end, your time has been so short lived. There are only so many minutes left. The clock on the TV counts down, and your chest aches with every second. You will lose them today.

Charles seems to sense your train of thought. He leads you back to the couch in the living room. He half sits, half lays with your daughter, legs up on the sofa, and holds his other arm out for you. She’s beginning to fuss, because she’s hungry- the most simple of human predicaments. When you sit down, he pulls you into his chest, to face him, your back to the tv. Even on the last day, he will try to shelter you. He curls his arms around you and your daughter while you hold the bottle to her mouth.

“My girls,” he says, voice barely a whisper. “My beautiful girls.”

You’d thought, when you had gotten pregnant, that Charles would want it to be a boy. A mini him, someone to teach karting and racing and follow in his footsteps. But before you even found out, he’d been insistent it was a girl, that she was going to be just like you, that he was going to be wrapped around her finger, same as he was around yours. And when she was born, his dark hair and your eyes and the tiniest fingers you’d ever seen, Charles had bawled his eyes out, holding her in his arms, pressing sweet kisses to your forehead.

He’d been so excited, told you all of his plans. There’d been days on the boat with her, days in the water, days at races with giant headphones to protect her ears. Her father had doted on her and loved her, had talked about her every chance he got. She was going to grow up with all the love the world could possibly have to offer and then some, surrounded by it, bathed in it.

It’s not fair. You’ve had years to live, you’ve gotten to be your own person, but she’ll never get that chance. You suddenly feel short of breath, chest tight, heart racing. Charles feels it and wraps his arm tighter around you. You stare at your daughter’s face, her tiny eyelashes, the little slope of her nose. She deserves so much more time. You rub your finger over her cheek as she drinks the bottle.

“S’not fair,” you mutter, blinking back tears.

“I know,” he says, murmuring the words against your forehead. “It’s not.”

There’s so much more you could say, but the words won’t come. How do you put that into words? The terrifying, all consuming fear of what is coming. There’s no stopping it now. Maybe it’s not worth dwelling on.

“You know,” you say with a sniffle. “She’ll never have to be afraid.”

Charles nods. “Nobody will ever hurt her.”

You reach out and hold her hand, her tiny fingers in yours. Her skin is so soft, unmarred by the world. She will never face heartbreak. She will never lose anyone. She will never have to worry. She’ll also never make her first friend, or have her first love, or her first job or first car, or… the nevers pile up and weigh heavy on your chest. The whole weight of the world is on you.

You press your cheek to Charles’ chest and let the tears flow. It’s silly to hide it. He holds onto you tightly.

There can’t be much time left, now. You can feel the seconds slipping away like grains of sand through your fingers. You have this uncontrollable urge to kneel on the ground and try to scoop them all up. The bits and pieces of your life together with him. You want to hold it all close to your chest, try and shelter it from the impact.

“The wine,” Charles says. “The wedding wine.”

You’d saved a bottle. It was meant to be opened on your tenth anniversary. It’s in the cupboard in the kitchen, a white bow around the neck, a label with a photo of the two of you custom printed by a friend. You’ve been married for three years now. At the time, ten years had felt so far away. Now it slips through the gaps in the cupped hands of your heart.

Charles passes your daughter into your arms and stands up. You cradle her to your chest and press your lips to the top of her head. You whisper to her, remind her how much she’s loved, how much you care for her. Charles returns with the bottle and two glasses, and the corkscrew you’d been gifted as a wedding present. You try not to dwell on it, try not to think about his brothers giving it to you, engraved with your new last name and with a note to accompany it- When you argue, or feel sad, or happy, or anytime, stop and share a bottle of wine together.

You take their advice- of all the times to take it, now feels like your best bet, though you’ve lived by little things like that your whole relationship. When Charles was gone for extended time periods for races, he always returned with a special bottle of wine, always made sure to set aside his first day back just for you, and eventually, for your daughter too. It was one of the things that bothered him most, he’d told you- he never felt like he had enough time. Stretched too thin between all the things and people he loved, everything that’s important to him. He pours you a glass of wine and hands it to you, and you wait while he pours his own. You clink the glasses together and take a sip. It tastes the same as it did on your wedding night, and fresh tears fill your eyes. All your family and friends, there to celebrate the two of you, and now it all comes to an end.

There are picture frames on the wall behind the couch. You stare at them, the tears in your eyes blurring the photographs, but you know what you’d find there. The wedding photo, when he’d kissed you for the first time as your husband. There’s the photo of the two of you on his first day at Ferrari, smiling bright and wide and happy and not having any idea how important you’d become to each other. There are family photos- just the three of you, and ones with your extended families, too. There are landscapes from your vacations together, pictures of you with friends out at parties, your whole lives, hanging up on the wall. All the photos will be destroyed, soon, along with the rest of the world.

Your daughter is dozing off against your chest. You turn to try and take a peek at the countdown on the screen, but before you can, Charles grabs your head and holds, firmly. It can’t be long now. Sometime this morning, just after sunrise, you think they said on the news last night. There’s sun filtering in through the curtains. Your breath gets caught in your chest. The dawn of a new day, of the very last day.

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs, lips against your forehead. “Don’t panic.”

“The world is ending, Charles,” you choke out, voice frantic. “We- we’re going to-“

“I know,” he mumbles. He knits his fingers with yours, right on top of your daughter’s back. “I know. Stay with me. Feel me? Feel her breathing? Just stay right here, my love. You are safe here.”

You’re not, you’re the least safe here that you’ve ever been, but you know what he’s trying to say. You feel the soft rise and fall of her back beneath your hand, feel the way he squeezes your fingers. Stay here. Stay with me. You take a deep breath against his neck, wondering if you can breathe in enough of him that he’ll be a part of you forever. Forever. What does forever even mean, now?

“It’s not enough,” you mutter. “It wasn’t enough time. We deserved more time.”

He nods, and when he speaks, his voice sounds raw. “It wasn’t. We did. But it never would have been enough, my love.”

“If you had more time,” you start, and you hear him choke on a sob. “What would you do with it?”

He’s quiet for a moment. There’s a million different options, a million different answers, a million things still left to do. You wonder if he’s thinking of the same thing as you, though.

“I would spend it right here,” he says, and you fall to pieces. “Right here, with you in my arms, and our daughter with us, and I would tell you how you are the love of my life and- and how I will find you, in the next life, and we will spend forever together. Over and over and it will never be enough,” he sniffles, his tears falling against your forehead.

“Give me a million more years, and I would like to spend them all with you,” you tell him, voice thick with your tears. “Every second.”

There’s a loud noise from somewhere outside. Your heart should be racing, but it isn’t. Charles wraps you up closer, pulling you around your daughter, trying to cradle both of you in his arms. This is it. If there’s anywhere you’d want to spend your last moments, this is the place.

“I will see you soon, my love,” he says into your skin.

Neither of you are religious, and you haven’t talked about your thoughts on the afterlife in any serious sense, but in that moment, you believe it, and you know he does too.

“Nothing could ever keep me away. We said forever,” he adds.

“I love you, Charlie,” you say, leaning up to kiss him. “Forever and ever.”

As the world falls apart around you, you bury your face in his neck and let it happen. There’s nothing you can do, now, except spend every second with him, with your daughter. All the seconds you have left.

…..

The Ferrari factory is bright and shiny, full of people who stare in awe. They have a new driver today, a new prodigy who’s meant to bring victory back to Maranello. You’re feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of it, by the people staring, by the buzzing underneath your skin. It’s too much, but you can’t back out now. You’re being lead through the crowd, and you hope you don’t look as terrified as you feel.

“Oh, and this,” your new team principal says, “is Charles. Your race engineer. You’ll be working very closely together.”

Charles turns around, eyes already sparkling. He grins, a dimple divoting his cheek. He’s cute. He gives you a warm feeling in your chest, like something familiar. When he shakes your hand, you swear you feel a spark. You’ve never met him, you’re almost sure, but it feels like you know him, or maybe, like you used to. It’s the strangest feeling, but it’s a comfort in this sea of strangers.

“Welcome to Ferrari,” he says, and it’s the millionth time you’ve heard it today but you could cry, still. For some reason, it means more coming from him. “You’re going to love every single second.”

Taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @arian-directioner @racingheartsposts @sakuramxchii @mynamejeff5 @c-losur3 @casperlikej

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toxicanonymity · 10 months

Text

As ugly as he seems. Left in Lincoln pt. 6

8.4k words, dark dbf!Joel x virgin f!reader story master list / spotify playlist / joel master

You would've given anything for Joel to wake up and ravage you. “s’what I mean, baby,” he murmured sleepily into your hair. "Can't trust myself." He groaned softly as his palm brought you tighter against him.

WARNINGS: I8+, grinding, light somnophilia, thigh fucking, fingering, oral f receiving, P in V just the tip, reader menstruates, angst, pet names and praise, toxic dark joel, pining, obsession, horror vibes. he's sweet with reader, but he is. . . unhinged. NO Y/N.

—---

You were back home in your room, lying in bed looking at the stain on the ceiling when it all became hazy. You kept staring until your eyes watered and you could no longer see the spot at all. The air was thick with smoke and dread. There was shouting outside. You went to your bedroom window and opened it. The night was dark, but a flickering glow illuminated the scene in your backyard. The door to the spider shed was moving, flapping violently. When it opened, Joel Miller emerged in a white tank top and jeans and an ax slung over his shoulder. He stared at you but didn’t say a word or even nod.

He charged slowly but deliberately toward the house until he was out of sight and a loud crack downstairs told you he was swinging the ax. At the other end of the house, the shouting outside intensified. As Joel continued axing down the door, you followed the shouting down the hall and looked out a window facing the front yard. Bill and Frank were in the middle of the street fighting off infected who were crawling toward the house. Bill was shooting at them. Frank was futilely trying to put the fire out with a hose.

Frank saw you in the window and shouted, “STAY UPSTAIRS!”

The cracking at the door turned into splintering, then boots thudding up the stairs. You ran into the hall just as Joel crested the top landing. His biceps were smudged with ash but glistening and his hair was wild. He lunged toward you and crouched down, wrapping his arms around you in a hug before hoisting you over his shoulder to carry you. He carried you downstairs and to the kitchen where he unlocked the shredded back door. Once you got outside, Joel didn’t stop. He kept walking away from the house. Not toward his house, not toward anywhere. Over his shoulder, you could see the house shrink into the distance. The shouting continued but faded as Joel carried you away. Then, with a loud boom, the house was completely engulfed in flames.

You tried to scream, tried to beg Joel to save your fathers, but you couldn’t make a noise.

—------

You woke up at Joel’s house gasping for air and heard yourself making an awful noise, more like a murder of crows than anything human. You sat up and took deep breaths. Frank’s note repeated in your head: We love you so much. Protect yourself.

Within seconds, footsteps were ascending the stairs. The bedroom door opened, and Joel rushed over with a look of panic on his face. He was in boxers and a tight, white t-shirt.

He sat down and hugged your head to his chest. “Shhhhhhh, I’ve got you….. You’re okay. . . . you’re okay.” You felt safer in his big arms, but the dread wouldn’t leave you and you couldn’t slow your heart rate. When you didn’t stop sniffling, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I had a nightmare”

“‘About what, darlin’?”

“Our house was on fire and it felt like everyone was gonna die.”

He rubbed your back. “We’re okay, the house is okay.”

“I mean my family’s house.”

“Oh,” he muttered and his hand paused for a moment. He kissed your head, then his hand resumed its slow circles on the bare skin above your nightgown. “Oh, darlin’. That sounds like a real bad dream.”

“It felt so real.”

“I know, honey.” He held you tight and planted a kiss on the crown of your head.

You were so grateful to him for everything, but suddenly felt guilty about being at his house instead of yours. You told him, “I should be there taking care of things. I’m doing a bad job.”

But at the same time, going back there was the last thing you wanted. It was so scary, so lonely at your house before Joel came and saved you. It was terrifying to think about. You had to go back, the dream ripped open something deep in the back of your mind, something you couldn’t even discern, but which compelled you. You hoped Joel wouldn’t let you stay there alone. Of course he wouldn’t, you told yourself.

“You’re safer here, darlin’.”

“I know,” you whispered. “But I’m worried.”

He sighed. “Okay, peaches,” His large hand squeezed your arm and he kissed your head again. “We’ll go over there in the mornin’. How’s that?”

Relief washed over you at the sound of Joel’s offer. Finally the tension in between your shoulder blades began to release. “Thanks.” It was still the dead of night.

Joel asked, “Got room for an old man?” He seemed hesitant to leave you alone. Knowing he wouldn’t leave you finally helped your heart rate to begin to slow.

You nodded and Joel slipped into your bed. He put his big arm under your neck and hugged you from behind. He nestled you into him as a little spoon and held you tight as you fell asleep. Nowhere felt safer than Joel’s arms.

—------------

When you woke up, it was still dark. You had drifted slightly forward in the bed, and Joel’s embrace had loosened. Needing to be closer to him, you scooted back into his chest. He cupped your breast with a sigh, then curved his body against yours again. His breathing suggested he was still asleep. As he nestled his knees behind yours, the solid shape of his cock sent a shock of desire through you. Its shape and warmth were unmistakable, even though it was all new to you. Your body certainly recognized it and began to prepare itself for what it wanted.

You pushed your ass back against him and his body rewarded you with a twitch of his cock. He let out soft noise somewhere between a grunt and a whimper. You pushed back again, and his hips gently pushed forward. You slowly moved your hand to grab the bottom hem of your nightgown and tug it down so your bare nipple would be against his hand. As soon as the satin was out of the way, your nipple hardened against his palm and you caught a whimper in your chest before it had a voice. Joel’s palm pressed against your breast, and he sighed as his manhood swelled harder against your ass.

You would’ve given anything for Joel to wake up and ravage you, but you knew he wouldn’t. For a minute, you tried to ignore it all. You focused on his breathing. Even his breathing was masculine and protective. You had almost fallen back asleep when he began to massage your breast, and his hips began to push his wood against you at a slow, regular rhythm through the thin barrier of his boxers. Joel’s mouth was pressed into your hair and his body was actively cradling yours, no longer asleep. You were throbbing and a warm pool was forming between your legs.

You loosely tangled your fingers with Joel’s. His lower body broke away, and for a moment you regretted your gesture, as if it had snapped him out of a sleepful indulgence. But then his hips returned, and you gasped at the contact of his smooth, bare cock. It rested warm and hard against you with the head nudging the top of your crack.

“‘S’what I mean, baby,” he murmured sleepily into your hair. “Can’t trust myself.” He groaned softly as his palm flattened your breast and the same arm pulled you tighter against him. You began to reach behind you, but he intercepted your hand and held it against your chest instead. His massive palm cradled your own hand gently around your breast then left it there while he pulled down your panties. After taking them off, he wrapped his arm over you again.

With one arm under your pillow, he backed up enough to get clearance for his ample morning wood. He wedged his foot between your ankles to lift your leg ever so slightly, then nestled his cock between your thighs, right up against your throbbing seam.

Joel groaned at your wetness as his erection slid forward between your thighs, and you gasped when the thick head of his cock came to rest at your clit.

“Oh, darlin’,” he breathed. “I feel how bad you want it.” His arm flexed under your pillow. “Poor thing, all wet and swollen”

When you didn’t respond, he added “s’a good thing, baby. This all for me?”

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“God damn,” he sighed and dragged his cock back. The crown stopped short of your entrance before reversing toward your clit again, and you whimpered. Your belly was warm and tingly.

Joel’s hand lightly grazed your abdomen on its way to your mound, then rested there. His cock slid back, and two fingers took its place where your wetness pooled. He swirled his finger gently and slowly. “‘s’perfect,” he whispered to himself.

He dipped his fingers halfway in and you gasped at the welcome stretch. He brought the wetness to your clit and began to draw circles. With his fingers out of the way, his cock slid forward again, bypassing your tight, wet hole, which spasmed at the proximity. “Oh, baby,” he breathed into your hair. “It’s too much to bear,” he groaned at a low, shaky pitch. Surely not compared to what he was doing to you.

Just the thought of him inside you–the thought of him occupying your body–was enough to tug at your tear ducts. Tears of need. He slid his cock back, then forward again, and when the tip reached your clit, it also met his fingers. You were getting pressure from both directions, and the tension in your belly threatened to burst. God, you wanted him, needed him.

He thrust his hips up against your ass with a sigh, moving his cock a little further, deeper between your thighs, as his hips flattened the plush of your asscheeks. Ohh, he knew how to make you feel good. Further, then back. Deeper, then back. He rocked in small movements, and the wet friction with your clit drove you crazy.

“Joel, please.” You pushed your ass back into him and your bodies moved in rhythm.

“Mm hmm, love feelin’ ya, baby.” Joel drove his cock a little faster, and his breathing became more labored.

“Me too,” you whimpered. He rubbed your clit as he fucked your thighs.

“I want it bad, baby. You feel that?”

“yea-I, it’s so, it’s so big.”

“When I’m real big and hard, that’s for you, baby.” His thrusts intensified. His breath was heavy and warm against your ear. “That’s all for you,” he whispered.

“Yes,” you whined.

He moved his hand back to your breast and you looked down. You watched the head of his cock appear and disappear between them and felt a new rush of arousal. The head was swollen and darker than you’d remembered.

Your spine arched and you whimpered, “Joel.”

He thrust hard with a grunt, laid his palm on your mound, and covered the head of his cock with his fingers as you began to pulse against him. He groaned with the throb of your climax and finally lost some composure. “God damn, I wanna fill you up.”

Your body jerked against him. “I, I– Joel-”

“Just, oh God, stuff you full of me.” His breath was ragged.

“I–” What you wanted to say was, I need it, I need you to. He kept thrusting between your slippery thighs, and kept you pulsing. Your waves of pleasure echoed, smaller and farther apart.

You pulled yourself together to ask, “Can, can I feel you come?”

“Wanna feel me come?” he panted as he fucked the warm, wet little pocket so close to where you wanted him.

“Yeah,” you whispered as he continued to accelerate.

“Yeah,” he repeated and kept thrusting.

“Please,” you asked.

“Go ‘head.”

He moved his hand back to your breast, groping you slowly but hungrily as he made room for your hand. His arm held you still as he railed between your thighs. “Oh, god damn,” he breathed into your hair as you cupped your hand around the tip of his cock. . “Oh, god-” Then he shuddered -- When his cock pulsed between your legs, it was so big, so powerful, like it was trying to push your thighs apart. A new wave of pleasure surged through you. You gasped as his hot load filled your palm. His breath was ragged against your hair, his chest heaving against your back. The warm, white spend kept coming, and coming. You held your hand steady as best you could as your heat twitched against him and his balls emptied.

You were both still and quiet, with his arm draped over you. His cum was still in your hand, but you didn’t want him to move. Once his cock began to soften, he slid it out from between your legs. He whispered, “I love you, baby” and kissed you on the head before going to get you a washcloth. Then you went to take a shower and he made the bed.

—-----

After breakfast, Joel walked with you down the street to your house. It felt like you were leaving a safe place. The broken asphalt was littered with debris from the storm, but it felt less spooky than when the two of you made the opposite walk, from your house to Joel’s. As your house came into view, you felt relieved that it looked intact, but guilty for leaving it unattended. Irrational as it was, you were also fearful, as if the house might be decaying from the inside out. The closer you got, the more you knew the terrible dream hadn’t faded from your mind. The mood of your nightmare followed you and made you envision the worst. You imagined the insides of the house gutted from a fire. Tall, black sheets, pieces of your life peeling off the walls. You imagined the insides grown over with weeds and mold. Then infected.

The dream made you see Frank’s note differently. Cautionary. It even made you see Joel differently. He saved you in the dream, but something felt wrong. He saved you, you kept reminding yourself. He saved you from the fire.

You knew these feelings would fade, but Joel could tell you were unsettled. He stopped you when you were coming up to your house. “You okay, darlin’?” Only then did you realize you had tears in your eyes.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered.

“C’mere, baby, I know it was scary.” He wrapped you in a hug. “Everything’s fine, you’ll see.”

Joel peeked his head inside the front door and gave the all-clear, then he checked the gardens while you went inside. You went to Bill and Frank’s room to make sure everything was okay and ready for them to come back. It was silly, but you checked under the bed, and behind the shower curtain, and even in the closet, looking for anything bad. Something lurking, growing, falling apart. You felt like there must be evidence of your neglect somewhere but you couldn’t find it.

While you were in their closet, a gray metal box caught your eye. You weren’t looking for it, but you were familiar with it. When you saw it, you had a strong impulse to take what was in it, lest a fire or horde of infected take it. It had been years since you opened the box, but it was just as it was. Your biological father’s wedding ring, a custom knife from your mother, and a loaded gun. You hesitated, then heard Frank’s words again: Protect yourself. You took a messenger bag of Frank’s off the closet shelf and nestled the objects in a zippered compartment.

—-

While Joel was still outside, you went upstairs and packed a few articles of clothing, an extra pair of shoes, and a book in the bag. You wondered if you should plan to stay in your own house again. Joel could stay there, too. It felt foregone that you and Joel would stay together, wherever you were, and thank God.

When you came downstairs from your room, you sat on the sofa. You recalled the first time Joel came over and comforted you right there. The rush you felt when he first embraced you and the aching throb when you felt him get hard. None of that had changed. You still felt it every time. The only thing that had changed was you. A void had opened up inside of you that only he could fill.

When Joel came back inside, he stopped at the threshold of the living room and looked at you sitting on the sofa. He put his hands behind his back, jutted his chest forward and stretched without taking his eyes off you.

He asked, “Ya miss it?” It was a casual enough question, the way he said it.

“Kinda,” you said. “But I feel at home when I’m with you.”

His face became serious and he stopped mid-stretch. He dropped his hands to his sides and his brows knitted as he approached. He sat down and put his arm around you. “You dunno how glad I am to hear that.”

You nodded, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them. A new, gentler shade of brown. He took your cheeks in his hands and kissed you deeply.

“Need anything else before we go home?” Joel asked.

“Nah.” You picked up the messenger bag and saw Joel eyeing it.

You thought he might ask what was in it, but all he said was, “Neat bag,” and for some reason, you were relieved.

You trusted Joel completely but felt better when you were also “being smart,” as Bill would say. A person can only count on themself, you were taught. You got the sense Joel would like for you to leave everything to him, but he was only human. You had to protect yourself, too.

—---

On the way back to Joel’s house, there seemed to be something on his mind. “Look, peaches,” he started. “I’m sorry ‘bout this mornin’, in bed . . .” This ignited an unexpected flicker of anger in you. What did he need to be sorry about?

“Why?” you asked.

“Uh. . .”

“I wish you wouldn’t be sorry,” you added earnestly.

“Well, I’m sorry anyway.”

Incredulous, you asked, “What part do you regret?”

“No, baby, no, no, no.” He stopped walking and took your hands in his. “Nothin’ to regret. I just–I felt like I almost lost control.”

You scoffed. “I wish you would’ve.”

He squeezed your hands. “I want everything to be special for you. I’m not gonna catch you off guard like that.”

You asked, “You’re gonna tell me when, then?”

“We’ll decide together.” Right. Whatever.

It put you in a bad mood, so you started walking again, kicked a stick in the road, and changed the subject.

—-----

That night, over dinner, you asked, “How’s Tommy?” When Joel got back from the QZ, you had been so focused on Frank that you forgot to ask.

“Didn’t catch him,” Joel said.

“Oh, sorry.” After eating another bite, you asked, “Why doesn’t he ever come visit?”

Joel finished chewing and said, “I reckon Maria and the kids keep’m busy.”

“I don’t even remember what he looks like.”

“What are you talkin’ ‘bout? He looks like me, younger, less handsome.” Joel winked at you. Then he went to a kitchen drawer to get a leather wallet. He took out a worn, faded photograph of the two of them and handed it to you. They looked so young. They were both in work shirts and hard hats. Joel was strikingly handsome, but nothing compared to now. He looked happy, but you preferred his weathered scowl. Tommy looked shy compared to Joel. Tommy’s hair was longer and his arms were crossed, while Joel had an arm around Tommy’s shoulder.

You nodded, “a lot less handsome.” and Joel laughed. “But only because you’re that good looking,” you added. “I still don’t get why they don’t just move here,” you said. Joel had told you before: The farm life wasn’t for everybody. But from what Joel said about the QZ, that idea didn’t make much sense to you. If the QZ was so bad, why would anyone prefer it to Lincoln? And if the QZ wasn’t so bad, why were you never allowed to visit it?

Joel was quiet, and there was something about the quiet that unsettled you.

It came out of your mouth before you registered the thought. “Is he alive?”

“What? Tommy?” Joel’s face changed completely. “What kind of question is that? He looked at you like you were crazy. "‘Course he’s alive. Bill's stayin' with'm.”

You weren't even sure why you asked. “Sorry.”

Joel's face softened. "No, no, I'm sorry, darlin'." He put down his fork. “Truth is, I wish he would visit. But I don’t think he much likes seein’ me.”

“Why? You’re brothers.”

“I reckon it brings back bad memories.”

“Like what?”

Joel sat back in his chair and rubbed one side of his beard. “Things we did. . . Things I did." He shook his head and looked at the ceiling. Quieter, he added, “things I’ve done.”

You were quiet for a minute. You knew the answer, but you still asked, “Bad things? Like killing people?”

“Necessary things.” He nodded to himself.

“But you only killed bad people, right?”

Joel crossed his arms and his legs. “I don’t wanna scare ya, darlin’.”

“Please tell me, I wanna know all of you.”

He shook his head.

“Not just bad people,” you whispered in conclusion.

He swallowed, then looked at the table as he softly admitted, “Anyone who was in the way.” He didn’t look at you for a few seconds, then cautiously, his eyes began to rise to meet yours. “I would never, ever hurt you, darlin’. You’re the last person in the world I would–”

“I know,” you cut him off and took his hand.

His brows knitted as he searched your face.

"Darlin', the outbreak, it changed people. It's not somethin' ya can leave out there, either. If you knew what the world was like. . ." he trailed off.

You didn't talk for a few minutes, and in that time, something came over you. You didn’t know what the world was like. You heard that more times than you could count growing up. You were sick of not knowing. You might have been the only person left in the world who didn’t know. This was your chance, with Bill gone, if Joel could just take you out, even for a few hours one day.

Joel kept looking at your face as if he was trying to read your mind. Then you broke the silence: "Show me."

Joel looked over his shoulder toward the orchard. "Show – show you?" He swallowed.

"You said if I knew what the world was like. Show me. Take me out there. Just for a day."

He shook his head and looked down like there was no possible way, like it was such a definite no, it wasn’t even worth the energy of convincing you.

You insisted, "I know you can protect me." If anyone could protect you, Joel could.

"Peaches–"

"Take me out. Or you're gonna keep saying that for the rest of our lives, I just know it. That I don't know what it's like. Everyone says that."

"What did you just say?"

"Please, Joel, give me a chance, I know you can protect me."

"The rest of our lives," he repeated, marveling at your words, ignoring your point.

You swallowed and your cheeks burned.

He nodded, "That's right, baby."

—----

After dinner, Joel did some work outside and you stewed–about him holding out on you sexually, about him not wanting to ever take you out into the world. That night, all you did was kiss on the sofa and listen to his whispers about the rest of your lives. Once the kisses heated up and he hardened against your thigh, you said you didn’t feel well. If he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted, you didn’t want him getting you all riled up. When you said you didn’t feel well, Joel didn’t ask any questions aside from what you needed and how he could help.

When you went to bed, you thought about what he said. Things I’ve done. You thought about the Red Sox caps. And you slipped back into your fairy tale where he had done the worst things just to have you. It shouldn’t have made you feel better, but it did. It made you feel better, not worse. You knew in your gut Joel wanted you, and once you finally put your bodies together, you knew there would be no taking them apart.

—----------------------

The next day, you really did feel crummy. You went to the bathroom and found out why. You got your period. You had everything you needed – Joel had stocked your room really well, which made you emotional, and you felt bad for being mad at him.

After dinner, Joel came in from working outside and found you curled up on the sofa. He came over with two glasses of water.

“You okay, darlin’?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired. I don’t feel that good.”

“What doesn't feel good?”

“I have cramps. I just feel pretty bad. ”

He looked at you then sat down on the sofa. “What can I do?”

“You’re sweet,” you said. “Nothing you can do, though.”

“Well, mind if I join ya?”

You made room for him. Before he joined you on the sofa, he retrieved a plastic baggy from the kitchen and offered you a painkiller. You accepted half of one. Before it had a chance to kick in, you whined wordlessly as you tried to get comfortable.

“How ‘bout I run you a bath, darlin’?”

“Okay.”

“Bathtub’s nicer down here,” he said.

You went to get your bathrobe from upstairs and curled up on his bed while his bathtub was filling up. When the water stopped, you walked into the bathroom. It was nice, like Bill and Frank’s. The counter had two sinks. The bathtub was separate from the shower. It was a big garden tub nestled in its own nook in front of a window, with a ledge behind the end without the faucet.

Joel was sitting on the ledge with his sleeves rolled up, checking the water for you. “See how that feels.”

You dipped a toe in and nodded, then stood there for a moment until you realized he didn’t plan to leave.

“Ah,” he put his hands on his knees to stand up. “Lemme grab you a towel.”

—

You were still a little shy to get completely nude in front of him, but you wanted him to see how far you’d come in trusting him and being comfortable. By now, you were confident in Joel’s genuine appreciation for your body and every part of you.

You hung the robe on a hook on the wall, then stepped into the tub and sank into the water before he got back. You felt less exposed that way.

He put a stack of folded towels on the ledge behind the bath, then smoothed his hair with one hand. You looked at him and admired his big, veiny hands and forearms.

“How’s it feel?” he asked.

“Better already,” you told him.

“Good.” His eyes sparkled as he admired your body through the water then met your gaze again. “Want me to leave?”

You shook your head. “No, but – do you have to be so. . .” you looked him up and down and his brows knitted in concern. “Dressed?”

His face relaxed, then he raised his eyebrows and pointed at himself. “You want me undressed?”

You nodded and he began to unbutton his shirt. You didn’t watch the whole time, letting your eyes drift to the window. In a way, watching someone undress or dress felt more intrusive than seeing them naked. He stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, then neatly folded his shirt and jeans and set them on the bathroom counter.

He asked, “Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he softly pinched your cheek. You wanted those strong arms around you more than anything, but you worried about your period. He was so neat and clean all the time that it was hard to imagine him willingly exposing himself to anyone else’s fluids.

“You could get in,” you offered. “Except for the blood,” you added apologetically. There was only a small diluted plume.

He cracked a smile and looked at you with soft eyes. “Blood don’t bother me, peaches,” he said. “Not one bit.”

“Really?”

“Not yours,” he clarified.

“It’s not like regular blood, sometimes there-”

He interrupted softly, “I know what a period is, darlin’. I’m almost sixty years old,” he chuckled. “Went to non-FEDRA school, too.”

“Almost sixty?” It gave you a rush to hear and a rush to say.

“If ya round up. That weird? Thought ya knew that, baby.” You knew he was in his late fifties. You celebrated his birthday at one of your last dinners. But somehow, hearing the number “sixty” was wild.

“It’s not weird.” You shook your head earnestly and suppressed a smile. It was flattering that Joel, with all that life experience, loved you. It was sexy, too.

Joel sighed. “So, am I cordially invited?” He eyed the water with a subtle smile, then he reached into the bath and gently caressed your lower abdomen. “It’s natural, darlin’. It’s beautiful.” He gripped the side of the tub and leaned in for a kiss. Then he pulled back and looked in your eyes. “Every part of you is beautiful. I’m just sorry it hurts.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Come on in.”

—---------

He stood up and faced you, then took off his white t-shirt. It was the first time you’d seen him shirtless in the daylight. He was weathered and tan. Scarred and strong. Strong, but soft enough to be comfortable. He dropped his boxers without shame. You averted your gaze, but what you saw of him made you even more amazed at how big it could get. You were flattered to have that effect.

You scooted forward to make room for Joel to get in behind you.

“You want me there?”

You wanted him everywhere, but you nodded. He stepped into the tub behind you and braced himself on both sides as he moved his feet forward. He settled in around you with a small splash, his thighs gently squeezing yours. He slid his huge hands under your arms to loosely embrace your torso then leaned back against the porcelain with a sigh, bringing you with him. You could feel his soft package and hair against you. You tried to relax into him, and he kissed you on the head.

He rested one of his hands on your lower belly. “You know we got the other half’a that pill, too, if ya need it,” he muttered.

“Thank you, Joel,” you said. “For everything.”

He planted another kiss on your head. “It’s my privilege, darlin’.”

He held you in silence, softly stroking your sides. Soon enough, you really relaxed back into him. You focused on the rise and fall of his chest under your back. You felt so attached to him, so in love with him you could cry. Suddenly, the idea of not having him wrapped around you at any point in your life made it hard to enjoy when he was. You knew you were emotional.

—---

Joel’s breathing became so slow and regular that you thought he fell asleep. You glanced back to check, and he was wide awake.

“Thought you fell asleep,” you whispered.

“No, darlin’.” He kissed you on the cheek, then you caught him looking at the water and you followed his eyes, looking for anything embarrassing he could have noticed.

He used two fingers to nudge your face back to look at him. “I love you,” he said, then kissed you on the lips. He whispered, “I dunno if I can ever show ya how much, but I’ll try.”

“I love you, too,” you said and felt your eyes gathering tears.

Joel sat up a little, concerned. “What’s wrong, baby.”

“I just wanna be with you forever,” you whimpered.

“Well that’s what we’re gonna do, baby.”

“Yeah, but. . .”

His heart rate sped up against your back.

“What if we can’t?” you asked.

He sighed and hugged you reassuringly. “Told ya there’s nothin’ in this world that can stop us bein’ together.” Your arms and his were crossed in front of you. He held both your hands, and kissed you on the head again.

—---------------------------

You were quiet for a minute, but still thinking. You asked, “What about when Bill and Frank get back?”

He took in a chest full of air, lifting you on his stomach. He released your hands as he exhaled. “What about it, darlin’.”

“What if they — I mean, I guess I’ll go back — I’ll go back to our house, right?”

Joel was quiet then asked softly but flatly, “Is that what you want?”

“No,” you answered quickly.

“Then why would ya?” He sounded more confused than hurt.

“Cause they’re my family.” Your tears began to silently fall.

“Look, peaches. I know you love’em, but you’re grown, You make your own choices.”

“I know,” you agreed.

“You decide who to be with. Ellie loves Riley. They’re a family now, the two of them. I shouldn’ta stopped her, right?”

“Right,” you whispered.

“We’ll be our own family, darlin’. You and me.”

Tears stopped up your nose and you sniffled, unsure if it could be that simple. “That’s what I want,” you whispered.

“That’s what we’ll do,” he reassured you.

“I just worry about, I don’t know. Maybe it’s not the same as going off with someone my age.”

“Ah,” Joel said. “You think they’d have a problem with it bein’ me.”

“I dunno, what do you think?” you asked him.

“I sure hope not, but you know’em better, baby.”

You sighed and stared at the water.

Joel continued, “I hope they want you to be with who you love. But if they don’t, is that gonna stop ya?”

“I hope not.”

“You . . .hope not?” His heart pounded under you.

His voice became serious and less measured. “It’s up to you and me, darlin’. We’re the ones who decide. No one else.”

You nodded, sighed, and wiped your eyes. The tub squeaked under him as he shifted so you could look at each other. You met his eyes for a moment, and he brushed a tear off your cheek. He brought a hand to cup your cheek. You looked down and continued, “I just don’t see how–”

“Marry me, peaches.” He said it softly, but it seemed to echo off the porcelain. Your heart went to your throat as you kept hearing it in your head. You stammered, “What?” and he just nodded. You asked, “How?”

“Marriage is just a decision. It means we decide we’re our own family, just the two of us, and nothin’ can take us apart.”

You softly gasped. “Joel. . . .”

“Ain’t that just what we want?” You were still processing it when he asked again, “that’s what you want, right?”

Your heart raced. You wanted it, you just didn’t see how it could be that simple. “Yeah, it’s what I want, but-”

“Then what’s the ‘but’ if bein’ together is all that matters?”

You must have looked upset, because he became apologetic. “I’m sorry darlin’, I know it’s a lot, learnin’ how all this works.” He cupped your cheek again. “I’m givin’ you my heart right now.” Looking into his eyes in that moment, feeling his skin on yours, you’d never been more sure of anything.

You reassured him, “There’s no ‘but’. I’m giving you mine, too.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, they were watery.

“I’m gonna ask you again, and I’m serious.”

“Okay,”

“Will you marry me,” he said in a near-whisper.

You looked from his eyes to his mouth and back and the how didn’t matter anymore. You nodded. “Yes,” you whispered. “That’s what I want.”

He exhaled and choked on a tearful laugh of relief, then he nodded with you. “I know it is, baby.” He kissed you long and soft on the lips. “But it feels good to make it official.” He wrapped his arms around you tight and kissed you on the head, then laid back against the tub, bringing you with him so you were both laid back, facing the faucet again.

—--------

“So what now?” You asked. “How do you make it official?”

“Well, I reckon it is, baby,” he said above your head. Your heart jumped, and not in a bad way. It felt like you were in a good dream.

He stroked your sides. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

You asked, “We don’t have to do anything else?”

Joel sighed, then mused, “I reckon we could dress up nice and do somethin’ to celebrate.”

“Like what?” You adjusted your position between his legs.

He lowered his voice. “Like whatever you want.” He brought his lips to your ear. “Whatever you really, really want.” Your clit twitched and you were unsure if the gush between your legs was blood or arousal. You didn’t look to check.

“Really?”

“If you’re ready.”

“Now?”

“How ‘bout tomorrow, if you’re feelin’ better?”

“Yeah. . .”

He kissed you on the cheek again, then you turned your head for your lips to meet his. He pulled back to look at you and your tears of fear–fear of being without him–had been replaced by tears of relief. Hearing his conviction and seeing it on his face, that was what you needed. It was just a conversation, but somehow, it changed everything. If no one could take you and Joel apart, and you felt like you had what you needed forever.

He moved back to be fully behind you again and let you relax so you weren’t craning your neck to kiss him. He sighed and his big hands roved your front, one of them coming to rest on your breast.

His voice echoed hoarsely in the bathtub nook. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

He pulled you closer into him and his cock twitched against your lower back. “We’re gonna have a beautiful life together.”

“Yeah,” you agreed.

Joel said, “As long as we’re together, that’s all we need, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. It felt too good to be true.

—------------------

Joel held both your breasts with you lying back against him in the tub. He palmed them over the waterline, then released the light pressure and used his palms to graze your nipples in light circles until they hardened. The desire that grew between your legs drowned out any echo of the cramps that led you into the bath.

His other hand carefully slid down between your legs. He fingered your floating curls, caressed your mound, then his whole hand cupped your bleeding seam. He used that hand to gently pull you into him and his manhood swelled against you. Then he brought his hand up to your lower abdomen and lightly stroked your skin. “How ya feelin’?” he murmured.

“So much better,” you said.

“I can kiss it even better if ya want.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Course I don’t. . . if ya don’t want.” His cock jumped and he sighed. “Let’s get ready for bed. How ‘bout that.”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Wanna rest in bed a li’l bit?” His voice told you he didn’t want to rest.

“Yeah,” you nodded. Even if he wouldn’t be inside you that night, you finally knew when it would be. It felt less cruel.

Joel pushed himself up onto the ledge behind you, the firm tip of his cock grazing up your lower back, then stepped out onto the bath mat. He tied a towel around himself, leaving a significant tent, then held out a hand. You held onto him for balance as you stepped out, and he wrapped a towel around you. You dried yourself off, then bundled up in the bath robe. Joel grabbed another towel from the linen closet on his way out of the restroom.

“Just the nightgown, baby. Nothin’ else.”

While you were upstairs changing, he dried himself off, combed his hair, got dressed for bed, and laid a towel out on the comforter.

—--------

Joel was sitting on the side of the bed in his boxers and t-shirt when you walked in wearing just the nightgown. He opened his arms for you, and you stood between his knees. He held your hands and just looked at you for a few seconds, taking in all of you. His eyes watered.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he wrapped his hands around your ass and buried his face between your breasts. He looked up at you and his eyes were still sparkling when he said, “So, so beautiful.” He guided you to lie down on the towel.

He kneeled on the bed, nudged your knees apart, and got between your legs. He lifted your nightgown up and planted a kiss on your mound, then your clit, before hovering over your body and putting his arms down on either side of your abdomen. He lowered himself as close as possible while being careful not to put any pressure where he thought you might be hurting. At that point, you were only aching for him.

He gave you a deep, long kiss on the lips then kissed each of your breasts and let his hips lay into the bed between your legs. It all started gentle, but he was overtaken by lust. He dipped his head to suck your neck, and as he dragged his lips down your chest, his eyes closed and his brows knitted together.

He lowered your nightgown under your breasts. His jaw flexed as he sucked the bottom of your breast, and a brush of his nose hardened your nipple.

Your back arched and your whole body erupted in goosebumps. He moaned into your skin as he sucked one breast and palmed the other. His ass flexed as his hips rocked into the bed. You wished his hips were rocking into you instead. You wrapped your legs around him and your knees under his arms urged him up toward you. “Joel, please.”

“Don’t wanna hurt ya, darlin’.”

“You’re not gonna.” You tried to pull him up more urgently, dying for his loins against yours. He read your face and cracked half a smile. You must have looked so desperate.

“Okay, baby,” he whispered and let you pull him just where you wanted him. Oh god, the wave of arousal his hardness sent through your body.

“Can you take off your clothes,” you whispered.

He wordlessly slipped out of his t-shirt and boxers and the sight of his erection made you weak. He let you wrap your legs around him and pull him into you again. His hard cock met your mound. He sighed at the skin-to-skin contact and a look of pain spread over his face. He lowered himself more, pressing his arousal against you, nudging your clit. You whimpered as a bolt of need shot through your already weeping core.

“I’m ready,” you said. “I want you inside me.”

“Almost,” he replied. “Tomorrow, remember?”

You groaned in frustration. “Is it because of my period?”

“Course not, baby.” He kissed his way down your stomach and put your thighs over his shoulders. He planted a kiss on your clit, then licked into your seam. He moaned and prodded your entrance with his tongue, then swirled it around your clit, his hips rocking into the mattress again. He let one leg down and fingered you before devouring you with his mouth again. You could feel it building in your belly, but it wasn’t how you wanted to come. You wanted to feel him.

“Come back,” you whined. “Please. I wanna feel you against me, like the first time you made me come.” He slid his fingers out of you, and tore his mouth away, wiping both on his discarded boxers.

He held his cock as he looked at your body with heavy eyelids. He got in position between your legs, swiped the head of his cock through your slick, and laid his shaft onto your mound. He leaned forward, kissed you deeply and the stiffness of his arousal was hot against your skin. You throbbed as he began to grind against you. You ached to be filled by him. Only one more day, but it felt too long.

He swiped his cock between your legs to get it wet again, and he hesitated with the swollen head at your entrance. “Ohh, baby,” he sighed, lingering with his tip right there, where only a push of his hips would do it.

Your whole body went weak as it tried to suck him in.

You asked, “Can you try it, just a little bit?”

“Oh, darlin’,” he groaned. He shook his head no, then brought his tip back above your clit. His cock slid hard and wet against you.

“Please Joel,” you begged. “To make sure I'm ready.” You held his arms with both hands. "Tomorrow can’t be perfect if I’m not ready."

He laughed softly. “You want it that bad, don’t ya.”

He leaned over you and kissed your head, then your lips. Once again, he gathered your wetness with the tip of his cock, making your walls twitch. He pressed the tip firmly against your most sensitive place and exhaled raggedly as you throbbed against him. He used his tip to massage your swollen clit. Your chest swelled with a sigh and arch of your back. He closed his eyes and groaned, and the distress on his face told you he was hanging onto his last shred of restraint.

“Put it in, just a little,” you whispered.

“Just a little,” he finally agreed.

—----

He put your knees up a little bit, then aligned his body over yours and nudged your entrance with the head of his cock. It felt so right. You’d never wanted anything as bad as you wanted him. He pushed the curve of his tip in just far enough to stay notched there as he hovered over you with both arms on the bed. The crown still wasn’t breaching your walls, but when he looked down at you and pushed a little further, you felt a slight burn with the stretch.

“How’s it feel,” he asked.

“G, g, good,” you whimpered. “So good.”

He laughed silently at how much was left to go.

“Am I ready enough? Can you tell?”

“Let’s see, baby.” He slowly pushed his hips forward, giving you his entire massive tip and you groaned. It felt even better than you imagined.

“Just a little more,” you whined.

He pushed a smidgen further. The stretch felt like you were being spread open and made into something else, something combined with him. You felt your face contorting and your spine arched with the beautiful stretch. “Oh Joel,” you gasped. “I—it-”

“Breathe, baby.”

He brought his hips back ever so slightly, then moved it in and out of you in small, shallow pulses. It felt so right, your eyes welled up in tears.

“That’s all, baby,” he whispered. “That’s all for now,” but he kept doing it, pushing just slightly in and out of you. You watched his arms flex and his face twist as he kept giving you the tip.

“Ah,” He bit his lip as he gently fucked you with his tip. “Oh God, I wanna–ohh,” he cut himself off with a groan, then sighed, "wanna stuff my whole self inside ya baby."

“Please do it,” you begged. “please-”

“Oh, fuck—"

"Don't stop-”

“-i, i–i gotta” He groaned, then pulled out. He held his cock while he lifted his knees to straddle you and press your thighs together. Then he slid his cock between your thighs, right up against your folds. He thrust into your thighs just twice and came, slowly moving it back and forward, painting your folds with his warm seed. “Feel–feel too good, baby.”

The pulsation of his cock sent you for your own orgasm. You gasped and writhed and whimpered his name as you came against his cock. You were hugging his cock so tight, your pulsations beating into each other’s loins so hard.

He lowered his weight onto you as you both finished. Then he got on his side next to you.

"I want you to do that inside me " you told him.

He dipped his fingers between your legs, into his cum.

"Want me to fill ya up with that?"

"Yeah."

"Leave it inside ya?"

"Yeah."

He whistled silently, then murmured, "can't wait to, baby." His face was pink and his temples glistened.

He kissed you on the lips, then you laid in silence for a minute.

You sighed and said, "that felt really good, being full of you like that."

"Ohh, darlin'," he laughed. "''m afraid ya don't know what full means." He read your eyes, kissed you tenderly, then whispered, "Yet."

You bit your lip, then he kissed you again.

“I’ll run the shower for ya.” Joel went to the bathroom and the water turned on in the standing shower.

You followed him, and as he checked the water temperature you asked, “Am I gonna have your last name?”

“I reckon ya do,” he said and planted a kiss on your lips.

—-----------

After your shower, you got dressed for bed again, and Joel asked you to sleep with him. He dozed off quickly, but you didn’t. You were too excited. Once you did drift off, you slept light.

In the middle of the night, you heard a vehicle and urgently woke Joel up. He didn't hear it.

“I swear, Joel,” you insisted, but it stopped.

“It’s okay, baby,” he reassured you. “Just a dream.”

He held you and kissed you until your heart rate slowed and you drifted off to the feeling of his breathing.

—----------

PSA. 💒 According to Joel, they're married now. They just are, that's all there is to it. Only thing left to do is "celebrate" 🍆

------------

THANK YOU sooo much for reading and engaging!! I appreciate your comments, discussion, sharing, and reblogs so much, I can't even tell you. Especially when I get labeled so quickly so often. I love you guys! I see you in the wild and I'm like, aw I love them.

And if you're new - I also have another dbf!Joel series, non-horror, but still somewhat of a twist (Trouble AU) at the top of my joel master list. The master list also has a virgin section lol.

-----------

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea@evyiione@xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious@chernayawidow@ambassadortotrilliusprime@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@jasminespringtime @romanarose@fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore@blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires@taeslarityy@str84pedro@lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy@fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine@worhols@fan-fiction-floozy@cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl@feministfanboi@gracieispunk@prettypartyfavor@am-3-thyst@babeincolor@milla-frenchy@switchbladedreamz@within-the-depths@am-3-thyst@may-machin@pedromania91 @sloanexx@paleidiot

@gab-thelamb-onthemoon

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #dark!joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #dbf!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️#lincoln!joel☠️#joel miller smut #cw age gap

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: Eddie's guard is back up after overhearing people gossiping about a secret that only you would know about. When he lets his animosity take over, the damage may be too great to repair.

Warnings: angst, Eddie is really mean to Reader, mentions of CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's, slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 3.7k

Chapter 4/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie is still fuming when he pulls into the music store’s parking lot. He’s opening today, and his hands tremble as he fumbles with the keys. All of those parents are going to know that he’s a failure of a father. The Munson reputation clung to him like a bloodsucking leech, regardless of his numerous attempts to shed it. He’s destined to be an outcast at best and a monster at worst.

Finally managing to unlock the door, Eddie flicks on the lights, blanketing the shop in a hazy glow. The silence is deafening, and he swears that his brain will implode if he doesn’t get some background noise. He walks to the section labeled ‘METAL’ as if on autopilot, grabbing Metallica’s Master of Puppets and shoving the cassette into the player. Ash insists that they play classic rock over the crummy little sound system; something about it being ‘palatable’ for the customers, but she’s not here to scold him.

He thinks back to when this album was released, towards the end of his third senior year. The good ol’ days, when I only worried about passing O’Donnell’s class and planning Hellfire campaigns, he thinks wryly. But, no; that isn’t quite true. He’d had to worry about the trailer getting repo’d, or whether he and Wayne could stretch their food stamp budget enough to feed two grown men. Concerns that his uncle had tried to hide from him until he no longer could.

“Ed, you’re eighteen now,” Wayne had said, just one month after Eddie’s birthday, “and I’m gonna need you to start payin’ some bills around here.”

At the time, Eddie thought he was just being a bastard. It wasn’t until a few days later when he’d spotted the envelope marked PAST DUE in bold, red letters that he realized it wasn’t a punishment, but a necessity.

He’d been selling for Rick ever since. Well, until now.

“Battery” fades out to “Master of Puppets,” and Eddie flips the CLOSED sign to read OPEN. He glances at the calluses on his hands and smiles sadly, thinking of all the hours he spent learning the chords in his room. After weeks of non-stop practicing—Hetfield’s solo was a bitch—he’d raced down to Gareth’s garage and played all eight minutes straight through. Watched as his friends’ jaws dropped in awe. Gave him a standing ovation. Told him he was a fucking rockstar.

“You’re a rockstar, all right,” Eddie sarcastically grumbles now, clanging a roll of pennies against the counter before dumping them into the till. “Getting ready to drop your new hit single: Do you want a receipt with that?”

His morning has been nothing short of monotonous: help the customer find what they want, ring them up and make small talk, and then organize (or, in his case, pretend to organize) the store when it’s not busy.

There’s too much down time for him to be left alone with his thoughts. As soon as he has a moment to himself, he’s ruminating on his regrets of the past. He turns up the music volume in a half-hearted attempt to drown them out, but they manage to worm their way into every nook and cranny of his brain.

Eight years ago, a twenty-two year old Eddie Munson left his podunk town of Hawkins, Indiana to pursue rock stardom. He’d driven to Chicago with only the pocket change he’d saved up and his guitar on his back. A big city for a man with even bigger dreams.

It didn’t take him long to realize that being Eddie Munson meant next to nothing in a place that was bursting with musicians desperate for the chance to become famous. He appreciated the anonymity at first; he could blend in without being chased by taunts of Freak or Loser. But after nearly a full year of auditions where he was just another guitarist who could carry a tune, he’d started to lose hope. Prepared to return to Hawkins with his tail between his legs, he’d stopped at the nearby bar for one last drink.

“We can’t go on without a lead singer and guitarist!”

A frantic voice captured his attention, drawing his gaze from the pint of beer in front of him.

“Well, Sam bailed. Again,” another man points out, tone heavy with irritation. “So either we go on without him, or we don’t go on at all.”

Eddie finds himself standing up and walking into a conversation where he was never invited. “I, um, play guitar. And sing?” He winces as it comes out like a question. “I can show you, if you want.” What was he doing? He couldn’t line up a gig to save his life, and now he’s offering to play for some band he doesn’t even know?

The two guys, both about his age, exchange a dubious look. “All right,” says one with shaggy dark hair. “Let’s hear what you got, Guitar Boy.” He hands him his own guitar, and Eddie adjusts the strap before diving headfirst into the chorus of the first song that comes to mind:

If you think I'll sit around as the world goes by You're thinkin' like a fool 'cause it's a case of do or die Out there is a fortune waitin' to be had You think I'll let it go you're mad You've got another thing comin'

The other guy cocks his head, a delighted smirk spreading across his face. “Judas Priest. Solid choice.” He paces a bit, twirling a drumstick between his fingers. You got a name, Guitar Boy?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Eddie Munson.” He sticks out his hand, silently willing it to stop trembling, and shakes theirs.

“I’m Marcus,” the shaggy-haired man says. “This is Bryan. I play backup guitar; he’s on drums. Our bassist should be here soon; his name’s Pete.”

“And Sam was our lead guitarist and singer, but he’s a fucking asshole,” Bryan quips, and Eddie chortles at his brazen attitude. “Anyway, we mostly do covers…check out the setlist and see what you know.” He hands Eddie a crumpled piece of paper, filled with familiar songs and artists.

“I can do any of these,” Eddie says, a satisfied warmth filling his chest as he watches the guys grin even wider.

“Tell ya what,” Bryan says, plopping behind a drum set plastered with a logo reading Hard Knox. “If you don’t suck tonight, you can play with us permanently.”

“Yeah,” Marcus agrees. “We’re gonna be big, man. We just need someone to help us get there.”

“Let me run back to my place and grab my ax,” Eddie tells them, adrenaline propelling him to his apartment. This was it. This was the break he needed. Just as he was about to give up, God or fate or destiny or whoever was finally giving him a chance to prove himself.

The show went off without a hitch; Eddie’s guitar skills bringing a normally quiet audience to their feet. Bryan clapped him on the back as he looked at Pete and Marcus; the three nodding at each other. “Welcome to Hard Knox!” he announced.

“Sam leaving was the best thing to happen to us,” Pete laughs in agreement. A bartender in a tight skirt and fishnet stockings brings over a round of shots, and the four men clink glasses.

“Fuck Sam!” Eddie shouts before taking the drink. The tequila burns as it coats his throat, but he doesn’t dare reach for the lime. No, he has something to prove.

“Fuck Sam!” the rest of the band echoes enthusiastically. Their choral response reminds Eddie of the way Corroded Coffin used to be before he’d left: when he’d say something, Jeff, Gareth, and Danny would listen. He was born to be a leader.

Things started to fall into place. His one night endeavor with Hard Knox turned into a biweekly gig at the bar, which eventually turned into shows almost every night at various venues across the city. He’d even convinced the guys to play some original work of his, reminding them that cover bands don’t get record deals.

He had a steady income. A group of friends who appreciated him and his music. Beautiful women who eagerly threw themselves at him at the end of the show. And then it would repeat the following night in a new place. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

Last night’s chaos has you all disheveled; it wasn’t until you got to work this morning that you realized you hadn’t even packed your lunch. You try to convince yourself that you can wait until you get home to eat, but about fifteen minutes before your break, your stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl.

“I’m gonna run to the deli and grab something,” you tell Will, throwing your jacket over your shoulders and digging out your car keys. “Want me to pick up anything for you?”

“Uh, Tylenol?” he grimaces, rubbing his temples. The kids had music class today, and the sounds of ten preschoolers singing off-key combined with their clashing tambourines served as a recipe for a pounding headache. “And maybe a bag of sour cream and onion chips?”

“You got it.” You shoot him a thumbs-up as you make your way to the parking lot as quickly as possible, determined to get your food before the lunch rush starts.

You manage to just beat out the crowd of hungry nine-to-fivers, grabbing a veggie wrap to-go. Crunching on a cucumber slice as you take a big bite, you start back towards your car, but the music store next door catches your eye.

A check of your watch confirms that you have a few minutes to peruse, maybe grab a copy of the new Toni Braxton cassette you’d been wanting. If there was ever a day to treat yourself to a little gift, it’s today. Your mind is foggy and your body feels like it’s dragging sandbags as you make your way over. You knew that taking care of an ailing relative would be physically demanding, but you weren’t prepared for the emotional toll it would take. Seeing your grandma helplessly laying on the bathroom floor scared drew all of the oxygen from your lungs, filling your body with worry. And just a few hours later, she was furiously swearing at you, claiming to hate you. She’s an ever-swinging pendulum, and you’re downright exhausted.

A small glob of hummus lands on your lower lip, and your tongue licks it off haphazardly as you push open the door to the music store. The jingle of the bell is meant to alert the employees that a customer has entered, but when you look around, there’s no one there to help you.

You walk towards the aisle labeled R&B, starting by thumbing through the “B” section–nothing. Perplexed, you make your way to the “T” section, still with no luck. Was Toni Braxton so popular amongst Hawkins residents that they’d bought out every copy of Secrets?

“You can’t eat in here,” a terse voice calls out. You’re so startled, you nearly drop your sandwich. A piece of tomato flies out of the tortilla when you jump, hitting the linoleum flooring, and the irritated person sighs. “Aaand this is why.”

You pick up the fallen vegetable and turn around to see Eddie Munson standing before you. “You scared me!” you say, but your body visibly relaxes. Twenty-four hours ago, you never would have guessed that he would have a calming effect on you. How quickly things can change, you muse silently. “Can you help me find the new Toni Braxton? The Secrets cassette?”

Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can you follow simple instructions? No. Eating. In. The. Store.” He rolls his eyes. “Just because you teach preschoolers doesn’t mean you get to act like one.”

The smile that briefly danced across your lips slips into a frown. What the hell happened in the few hours since he’d dropped Harris off at school? Did you imagine that you two had gotten along?

“Are you okay?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion. “I-I can put the wrap in my car, just give me a sec…”

He shakes his head. “No, actually, I’m not okay,” he sneers. “But I bet you knew that already.” He shifts his posture so he’s standing a bit taller. “Y’know, you have some fuckin’ nerve, coming in here after what you did.”

“Did I miss something?” Your voice gets smaller with the gnawing feeling of brewing confrontation acting as a brick on your chest. “I thought–”

“Tell me what you thought,” he interrupts, leaning on a box of tapes. “Wait, no; let me guess. You thought that because I rejected you, you could go around blabbing my personal business around the school.” He scrunches up his face, biting his lip as he looks at you. “Did I get it right?”

“Your personal business?”

“Mhm,” he answers pointedly, spinning a skull ring around his finger. “Is that not it? Was it because you were embarrassed that I heard your grandma say that she hates you? I don’t blame her, by the way.”

Your force your gaze to remain trained on him, staring into his brown eyes that have hardened with fury. “She doesn’t hate me,” you breathe out, “she just can’t remember me anymore. When she knew who I was, she loved me. A lot.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t take away from the fact that everyone and their goddamn dog knows about the CPS report.”

“What CPS report?” you ask, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach. “Is Harris okay?”

He takes one look at your puzzled expression and barks out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “Seriously? You can drop the innocent act.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about!” you snap, frustrated at his unwillingness to hear you out and your own lack of understanding. “All I know is that this morning, you didn’t hate me–or maybe just hated me a little less–and now you’re back to being the worst human being I’ve ever met.”

Eddie scratches at the shadow of a beard that’s formed on his jawline; an itchy reminder that he didn’t get to shave last night. “You should consider yourself lucky if I’m the worst person you’ve ever met. Tell me, what have I done? Thrown some insults your way?” He claps his palm to his chest exaggeratedly. “How ever did you survive?”

“Mock me and my teaching skills, pretend like you’re going to call when you knew damn well that you weren’t, call me a bitch, and your latest and greatest,” you counter, ticking off the instances on your fingers, “accuse me of something I didn’t do.”

He considers this for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “So you’re trying to tell me,” he starts, gritting his teeth, “that we were in the same wing of the same hospital at the same time, but you weren’t the one who told people about the CPS case they opened on me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you hiss.

“Then how the fuck did Carol Perkins find out about it?!” His volume raises to a roar, and you wince at the sting it leaves echoing in your eardrums. “Because I fucking heard her talking about it with Steve Harrington! So if you, the person who was there, didn’t open your mouth and tell her, who did? The CPS fairy?”

“I don’t fucking know!” you shout, swallowing thickly in a meager attempt to bide time before the tears inevitably leak from your eyes. “I don’t know, but it wasn’t me.”

Eddie rakes a hand through his frizzy curls, smacking the other on top of the nearby box. “Just…just get out,” he mutters. “I can’t listen to any more of your bullshit.” He starts back towards a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY before turning back around, eyes narrowed.

“Y’know, I wouldn’t have hooked up with you that night if I knew that this is how you handle a one-night stand,” he says, pursing his lips as he steps closer to you. “And I never should’ve let Harris step foot in your classroom. I would drive him to a school in goddamn Timbuktu if it meant having you out of my life.” He pauses, scraping his teeth across his lower lip and exhaling a terse laugh. “It’s too bad I can’t forget about you like your grandma did.”

The words knock the wind out of your lungs. Your knees buckle slightly, and you have to steady yourself on the closest shelf. Tears blur your vision as your legs carry you out of the store; you feel yourself walking, but it’s like an external force has control of your body. The words fuck you sit on the tip of your tongue, or maybe you say them—it’s too hazy to tell. The world is covered in a shiny layer of cellophane; you can see everything, but you can’t touch.

You’re crying too hard to drive, so you sit behind the wheel, seatbelt clicked in place, letting out sobs that leave your whole body shuddering. It’s all too much, and though you logically know that Grandma didn’t want to forget you, his comment hit a raw nerve.

It wasn’t a straight path; Alzheimer’s never is. A few months ago, she could remember you in the morning but forgot you by the afternoon. She would call you by name at 9 AM but ask who you were at 2 PM. One day you were her granddaughter; the next, you were a total stranger. You thought it couldn’t hurt more than it already did, but the repeated reminders that she no longer recognizes you at all is a constant knife through the heart.

You’ll be late if you don’t start driving back to work now, so you turn the key in the ignition and adjust the gear shift to reverse. As you look up to glance in the rearview mirror, you catch sight of him. He’s dumbfounded, and you could laugh at how ridiculous it is that it took him seeing you bawling in your car to realize that he went too far this time.

Unable to stomach the thought of further confrontation, you take a deep breath and drive away, leaving him to mull over what just happened.

He’d assumed you’d left already when he’d walked outside for a smoke break, placing a cigarette between trembling fingers before he’d even left the store. He almost drops the lighter on his scuffed sneaker when he sees you hunched over, resting your arms on the wheel as your body heaves. He’s not sure how long he’s been staring when you lift your head, exposing tear-streaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. Your gazes lock for just a millisecond, but it tells him everything he needs to know.

It wasn’t you.

When Eddie arrives at the school for pick-up, he scours the crowd of impatient parents for Carol. He finds her talking with another mom; no doubt spreading more gossip about him. Maybe he shouldn’t have pretended that their Satanic cult rumors didn’t bother him when they were back in high school. Maybe if they knew, they would understand that he’s just a goddamn person trying his best, just like everyone else.

“Hey,” he starts, pushing the fear from his voice and willing his strength to remain unwavering. “Who told you about the CPS stuff?”

Carol plasters an obviously fake smile on her face as she responds. “I don’t know what you mean,” she says simply. Her carefree tone pushes Eddie to his limit.

“Cut the bullshit,” Eddie growls, quickly losing his temper. “I heard you talking to Steve Harrington about it. So either you tell me now, or I’ll make sure your husband knows about that guy I saw you with at the Hideout a couple of months ago.”

Her face blanches, color draining from her cheeks. “It was Jason Carver,” she mumbles, biting her thumbnail. “His wife, Chrissy, is a nurse at the hospital and saw the report. She told him, and he’s been telling, well, everyone else.”

Eddie swears that steam is billowing out of his ears. Everything is coated in a red haze, and he finds himself unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fists. “Where is that sonofabitch? I’m gonna punch him in his smug little–”

“Mr. Munson?” you cut through his rant. His head snaps in your direction. You’ve fixed your makeup; if Eddie hadn’t seen you crying earlier, he would’ve been none the wiser. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammers, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet. “Actually, I needed to tell you someth–”

“I think you’ve said enough today,” you say, voice calm but firm. “I just wanted to give this to you before Harris comes out.” You hand him a pink piece of paper. “It’s a transfer slip. Starting next week, Harris will be in Ms. Marion’s class. I didn’t tell him anything about it, so you can say whatever you want. I don’t care anymore.” That’s not quite true; the idea of Eddie feeding Harris lies about you makes your stomach curdle, but there’s only so much you can control.

Eddie’s, usually quick with a retort, is uncharacteristically quiet. “I, um, I thought…the secretary told me that all of the classes were full.” It’s a cop-out, but he can’t push himself to tell you what he knows now. Not when you’re already bruised.

“They made an exception because I was the one who requested it this time,” you explain, clenching your jaw. “Looks like you got your wish. You can forget about me now.”

He takes the paper and shoves it in his back pocket. The confession is on the tip of his tongue, an apology not far behind. Say it, he berates himself. Just fucking say it. You might be able to fix this if you just—

“I’ll go get Harris,” you tell him, breaking into his thoughts. “Good-bye, Mr. Munson.”

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